


in between are doors

by frostbitten_cheeks



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3963724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostbitten_cheeks/pseuds/frostbitten_cheeks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes Phil a very long time to notice how frequently Dan steals his clothes, but the moment he does, he decides something has to be done. Dan, on the other hand, isn’t impressed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in between are doors

**Author's Note:**

> i’ve never been so great with fluff, domesticity, established relationships or dialogue-based fics, so this is me tackling exactly those things. also, clothes sharing.
> 
> (link to this fic [on tumblr](http://literaryphan.tumblr.com/post/103906837501/in-between-are-doors))

The first time Phil notices, it’s a cold morning, and he’s standing in front of his open socks drawer with bare feet, staring at the spot where his favourite pair used to be and are now clearly not.

He doesn’t remember wearing them so he doesn’t think they’re in the wash, but they can’t really vanish, can they, unless Dan’s theory about socks goblins is true – so surely they must be somewhere and he’ll find them eventually.

The floor is freezing his toes so he grabs a different pair, and reminds himself to check the goblins theory, just to be certain.

 

  

-

 

 

It’s only later that day that they’re sitting on the sofa, and Phil’s shifting his eyes from his laptop screen to the television when midway he finds his look fixated on Dan’s outstretched feet, and he doesn’t know why he’s staring until he realizes he recognizes the socks very well.

“You’re the socks goblin!” is what he says when he realizes, and Dan raises his head from where he was looking at his phone, blinks and says, “Okay,” and it sounds like there’s a question mark at the end but it isn’t exactly phrased as a question.

“Those are my socks,” Phil emphasizes, gesturing to Dan’s feet, and Dan follows his hand and cranes his neck to watch his feet, pursuing his lips and letting out a humming sound when he sees them.

“It appears that they are,” he nods. Phil isn’t settled by the easiness.

“I was looking for them this morning. My toes nearly fell off they were so freezing.”

“It’s a good thing they didn’t, then,” Dan tells him. His eyes are smiling and his lip is twitching and Phil knows that look, knows he’s being toyed with on purpose. He considers hitting Dan in the face with a pillow, but all their soft ones are in the office for gaming channel purposes.

Phil settles back into the crease behind him and mutters, “Wear your own socks, you thief.” Dan snickers and provides him consolation in the form of socked toes nudging his calf gently.

 

 

-

 

 

The socks are the first time he notices, but Phil figures out rather quickly that this has been happening for years. His shirts appearing in Dan’s laundry, his pyjamas disappearing for long periods of time, his coat ending up on the floor of Dan’s room. It’s been happening for as long as he can remember and Phil never noticed, but now he has – and he’s putting a stop to the thieving spree.

It’s not the sharing he minds, of course. They share a bed and a flat and even camera equipment, and they’ve shared toothbrushes before in cases of extreme emergencies, so there’s not much left they wouldn’t do. It’s the fact that he never noticed and, worse, that Dan never asks, that cements his decision.

He tells Dan he feels like a Wild West sheriff. Dan laughs, and Phil doesn’t offer explanation.

 

 

-

 

 

The next time it doesn’t take him nearly as long. It’s still cold, the rain outside hammering on the windows, and Phil’s in the kitchen making them two bowls of morning cereal when Dan appears, in socks and sweatpants and Phil’s green York hoodie.

Phil stares at the hoodie and Dan stares at Phil, and when Phil looks up Dan raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms as he leans against the counter, and there’s a sense that Phil’s being challenged to say something.

“That’s my hoodie,” he acknowledges calmly, jerking his chin at one of the bowls to inform Dan he can take it, and Dan does just that as he ducks under Phil’s arm shoving the cereal box back in the cupboard. Dan says, “And that’s my cereal.  _Mi casa es tu casa_ ,” and Phil doesn’t want to laugh.

“That’s not what that saying means,” Phil tells him, mouth threatening to smile against his desire to convey the graveness of the situation, and Dan balances the bowl in his hands as he chooses to ignore him and ask, “What are we watching, again?”

Phil follows him and finds revenge by pressing his cold fingertips to the back of Dan’s neck.

 

 

-

 

 

“We really need to talk about this,” Phil tells him a few nights later. Dan doesn’t even bother opening his eyes, just huffs and burrows further into the pillow his face is smushed into, trying to curl in on himself and managing to shift the entire mattress in the process.

“It’s barely five degrees in here and the heating is shit,” Dan mumbles. “I don’t even care if you’re trying to break up with me, it can wait. I’m busy positively drowning in these duvets right now.”

Phil considers arguing, but doesn’t find it in himself. It’s proving to be somewhat difficult to attempt being serious when Dan is lying in foetal position with nothing except the top of his head peeking between the sheets, his hair sticking in various directions.

“Okay,” he agrees finally, and then shoves Dan and says, “Budge over, you’re really warm and I feel like I just had a hug with Articuno.”

Dan makes a disgruntled noise but does, lifting one side of the duvet so Phil can slip into the cocoon, twisting on one side and pushing his feet under Dan’s warm legs.

“Still not okay with you stealing my jumper and then sleeping with it,” he says quietly against Dan’s shoulder. “Not gonna break up with you, though.”

Dan rubs circles on his ribcage and answers, “I’ll survive.”

 

 

-

 

 

When Dan walks into the kitchen the next day, Phil’s bent over and sticking a paper to the fridge with animal magnets.

“Do I want to ask?” Phil can hear him ask behind his shoulder, and he adjusts the bison magnet then straightens up.

“It’s a list,” he informs Dan. There’s a chance he sounds slightly too proud over his accomplishment, as Dan bites back a smile and paints on a fascinated expression.

“A list.”

Phil nods. “Yes. And every time I’ll catch you wearing something of mine without asking me, I’ll write it down. There will be consequences.”

Dan seems amused, and Phil isn’t sure if it’s because of what he said or because he’s actively trying to humour Phil. He isn’t sure he wants to know. “Right. And what will those consequences be? So I can prepare myself, of course, ‘cause you know how I am with emotional pain and stuff. Don’t wanna be too overwhelming, do we.”

“I’ll think about it,” Phil tells him decisively as he walks out the kitchen. He can hear Dan’s snort behind him, and he doesn’t turn around as Dan calls, “It better be sexual!”

 

 

-

 

 

The list grows long very quickly, and Phil is running out of room. Dan wears Phil’s shoes to the shop because he can’t be bothered to find his own, tugs on Phil’s hat while he edits because it’s lying on the desk, and steals Phil’s gloves because his are buried somewhere under the truly impressive pile of clothing on his floor.

Phil does his best attempt at ominous glares whenever he catches it, but Dan doesn’t seem very bothered. In fact, Dan’s taken to using the sharpie on the counter to draw little doodles and crude remarks on Phil’s list on the fridge. He claims it makes the entire idea more engaging. Phil firmly disagrees.

“I think you haven’t exactly thought this through,” Dan tells him over Mexican food, his feet planted in Phil’s lap while Phil’s trying to concentrate on writing an important email that Dan really should be helping with. “I mean, how does the system works? Do I get the penalty after a certain number of offences? How many times is that? And what’s the penalty, anyway?”

Phil thinks it over for a moment and eventually settles on, “You don’t need to know,” because it seems like the best way to keep his dignity without admitting he really didn’t think it through.

Dan eats his tortilla chips and Phil stares at Dan’s feet resentfully, wearing the slippers Phil finally bought less than a week ago after an intense session of Sims 4.

 

 

-

 

 

“I don’t understand why you aren’t taking me seriously,” Phil complains from the other side of the aisle, eyes running over different brands of cabbage-flavoured biscuits. He’s kind of wondering if it’s the next big thing now, but he doesn’t really want to ask.

“I’m totally taking you seriously,” Dan objects. It’s hard believing him, because he’s not even looking at Phil when he says that, and also he’s throwing all sorts of vegetables they both know they won’t eat into their cart.

“Clearly you aren’t,” Phil narrows his eyes and kicks Dan’s shin weakly. “As you’re wearing my socks again. And I got those from viewers.”

Dan pulls his leg away and rolls his eyes. “You know they really wouldn’t mind. But it’s not that, okay, I  _do_  take you seriously. I just know there’s something really obvious you’re missing and I’m waiting for you to figure it out.”

They walk down the aisle and Phil tries to make sense of it, but he can’t think of anything. There’s a woman across the bread section eyeing them strangely, and Phil hopes it’s because of Dan’s anarchistic shirt and not because she recognizes them, since he’s in pyjamas with undone hair and there’s a chance Dan has traces of bites on his neck.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says eventually. Dan throws him a look that says  _exactly_ , but chooses instead to say, “It’s kind of amazing, but we’re not buying that,” about the cat-shaped muffins Phil’s trying to sneak into the cart.

 

 

-

 

 

Phil gives it three weeks, and they pass by worryingly fast, with Dan stealing his clothes just as often as ever and Phil watching him, coming up short when trying to understand what Dan was referring to.

“I don’t get it,” he informs Dan by the end of the three weeks, sliding onto the sofa by Dan’s side with his feet curled beneath him. Dan makes an acknowledging noise but doesn’t look up from Skyrim. “And if I didn’t get it so far, then I won’t get it ever, and so… you must be making it up.”

“Are you calling me a liar?” Dan questions. His eyes are still on the screen but Phil can see his dimples forming craters in his cheeks, and he kind of wants to thumb them, but doesn’t. Because this is an entirely serious discussion.

“Well, you already are a thief,” Phil says, and that’s what does it, he thinks, because Dan pauses the game and turns to run a quick look over Phil’s body with a raised eyebrow and a determined expression.

“Okay,” Dan nods after a moment. “Tell me what you’re wearing.”

Phil halts, drawing his eyebrows together in suspicion. “If you’re trying to distract me with, like, dirty talk –“

Dan gives him a look that says  _don’t be a fucking dumbass and do what I told you to because I’ve got my reasons_. Phil finds it a cross between amusing and alarming that he knows that look so well.

“Um, well, I’m wearing  _my_  slippers,” he begins, and stresses the possessive pronoun with a  pointed look, the memory of having to smuggle them out of Dan’s room fresh in his mind. “And, my socks and jeans and hoodie, and my shirt –“

Dan pulls a face that Phil recognizes as his smartarse face and points out, “ _Your_  shirt?”

Phil blinks. “Yeah, it’s my red checkered button-down sh— oh.”

“Oh,” Dan repeats smugly.

And that’s weird, Phil thinks, because he has his own red check shirt, and he can’t remember stealing Dan’s – except, well, that one time a couple years before when his had a ketchup stain on it and he wanted to wear it for a video so he borrowed Dan’s, and…

“I could’ve sworn I gave it back,” is what comes out of his mouth, and Dan pats him on the knee and turns back to face the screen.

“Maybe you did,” Dan says. He’s clearly losing focus on the conversation as the game goes unpaused. “But our laundry is so mixed up it’s a wonder we ever wear our own things, really.”

Phil stares at him for a moment and then tumbles off the sofa and down the stairs

 

 

-

 

 

When Dan finally emerges hours later, he appears on Phil’s doorstep and watches Phil sitting crossed-legged in front of his clothing-covered bed.

“Has your wardrobe finally declared war?” he asks lightheartedly, crossing the room to settle down next to Phil, and the latter doesn’t even look up as he stares at the entire content of his closet with utter concentration.

“I have more than five of your old shirts,” Phil says. He doesn’t look up, like maybe he’s afraid the bed would declare a counter move. “Some of your old sweatshirts, as well. A hoodie. An incredible amount of your socks – which really does explain how I gathered so many of them without ever buying any.”

“So  _that’s_  where they all disappeared to,” Dan exclaims. He doesn’t seem too concerned.

“I really thought you’re a clothes-thief,” Phil whines. He sounds disappointed. Dan doesn’t have the heart to point out how it’s really sad that Phil considers this the most exciting thing that’s been happening to them lately. “It turns out  _I’m_  the real criminal.”

Dan leans sideways, knocking their shoulders together. “I promise not to turn you in. And anyway, that’s not true – it’s not stealing, it’s just. Sharing. It’s ours. Just like everything else in here, in a way.”

Phil looks up and informs him, “That’s really cheesy,” with an unapologetically judging look. Dan wrinkles his nose in agreement.

“I guess I’m okay with that,” Phil says reluctantly. “I mean, I do love some of those sweatshirts too much to give them back to you, so I can’t really complain, can I. I’m cool. As long as we don’t share underwear.”

Dan pats him on the back with a spreading grin and says, “Whatever makes you happy. Probably already have though, to be honest.”

He isn’t really ashamed of laughing at the expression on Phil’s face after that, but he makes good by kissing it better. 


End file.
